A King on a Rusty Throne
by arollercoasterthatonlygoesup
Summary: Peeta Mellark has won the Seventy Fourth annual Hunger Games, riding on the hopes that a certain girl back home will have noticed him once and for all, but once he's home, things are a little bit more complicated than the Capitol grade Happily Ever After he's been promised.
1. Preface

Preface:

She stands outside of the Justice Building, her back to the wall. She knows she should go in, tell him thank you for that bread all those years ago or good luck or _something _but all the words she can think of sound lackluster. _Hey, Peeta, remember when you saved my life and I didn't say anything? Thanks for that. I hope you don't die out there. _No, she shouldn't say anything if it's not at least good, she thinks. She waits too long, thinks about it too hard, because then he's being led out by Peacekeepers. He glances over his shoulder, his eyes meeting hers, and she stares at the ground, embarrassed. When she does manage to look back up, he's in the car, turned completely around in his seat to look at her. She reaches up, giving him a wave, and he gives her a small, sad smile and she knows it's not good enough but then the car is pulling away, and he's gone.

Her sister and mother treat her strangely that night, asking her if she's okay and looking at each other like they don't believe her when she says yes. Why shouldn't she be okay? She's never spoken to him. Their only real interaction was that day with the bread, and that was years ago.

"I told you," she says after Prim asks her again. "I'm fine. Okay? _Fine_."

* * *

The breath she didn't realize she was holding all comes out in a rush when he comes out on fire. Her mother and sister exchange glances, but they don't say anything. His costume is stunning, and she wonders what it would look like up close. He's the star of the show. His chariot is shown far more than any of the others through the president's speech, which suits her just fine. The only problem is that she can't tell why.

* * *

"A nine. That's not bad," she says, more to herself than anyone else.

"No," Prim muses, tugging at her braid. "Not really. Why, do you think he has a shot at this?"

"I don't know," she says quickly. "I mean, it's just nice to see someone from here with one. Don't you think?"

"Yeah," she says, giving her a strange, steady look. "I guess it is."

* * *

If she thought that he had a shot at it after his score, she's sure that he does after his interview.

He has the audience eating out of the palm of his hand from the start, talking about life as a baker's son, how strange he thinks the showers is. There's even a whole bit where he and Caesar smell each other that has people in the Capitol howling with laughter. She even finds herself smiling. The real moment, though, where she knows that he has it, is when Caesar asks if he has a girl waiting for him back home. He thinks about it for a second, and then gives an unconvincing shake of his head.

"Come on," Caesar prompts. "A handsome boy like you, there has to be someone. What's her name?"

"Well, there is this one girl," he says. "I've liked her for as long as I can remember, but I don't think she knew I was alive until the reaping,"

There are sighs in the audience. She wonders how there could be a girl in Twelve that wouldn't notice him.

"Well, here's what you do, then," Caesar says, leaning forward, like it's a secret. "You win, and then you come home. She can't turn you down then, eh?"

He chuckles. "I sure hope not."

* * *

He fares pretty well in the games, sticking to himself. Eventually, though, he's found, and one of the careers cuts him in the leg, leaving him to bleed out. He doesn't, but she can tell it's bad. Her sister and mother exchange theories about blood poisoning quietly. It seems like everyone that's ever spoken to him records interviews, talking about how great he is, what a pleasure he was to have in the classroom, how great he's always been at wrestling.

One day, when the interviewers are in town, Delly Cartwright all but shoves her at a camera while she waits for Prim to finish talking to one of her friends. She stammers for a little while about how nice Peeta has always been and how they had History class together. She can tell that the interviewer is about to call it quits and she's desperate to say something, anything that might help.

"Peeta saved my life once," she says quickly, making sure that the camera stays on. "It was a long time ago, before we were in the reaping. My family and I, we were starving. My father had just died, and…" she trails off, swallowing hard. She's never talked about this out loud, ever, but she has to do something, anything, to try to save his leg. "My father had just died, and my mother was… heartbroken and we had no idea how to take care of ourselves. I was trying to find something to eat, something to bring home. I wound up behind the bakery, hoping for some scraps or something in the trash – but the bins were empty, and I just… I sat there, underneath his apple tree and I was scared and I was hungry and he came out… And he gave me bread. And he saved my life."

It's quiet for a few seconds as what she's saying sinks in.

"And I never thanked him. I was always too scared. And… I just _really _want a chance to."

It's not long after that when she leaves – she has to leave, before she does something stupid like cry. Her interview airs in full that night, and her mother and Prim exchange the looks again. He gets a parachute, one with a syringe full of medicine for his leg. Her mother knows what it is, but Katniss isn't even listening to the conversation that she and Prim have about it. She can't tear her eyes away from him and the look on his face when he presses it down into his leg.

* * *

Once his leg is healed up, it's anyone's game, really. She finds herself wishing that the two could just take care of each other so that he could go home and this whole thing could be done.

* * *

They don't destroy each other, but they come pretty close. Peeta had heard the fighting, and, though she can't imagine why, limped over to where the two guys were struggling. One of them manages to sink his knife into Peeta's leg, either reopening the wound of making a new one, and she feels tears sting her eyes at the noise he makes. The same one that cut him again, he's from One, manages to wrestle the other to the ground and, before he does anything, begins to sneer at Peeta, calling him _loverboy _and saying that he's next. The one that was pinned down manages to flip them over, getting a nasty cut down his arm in the process. The cannon booms and he stands up, wiping his hands off on his pants. He tries to tease Peeta, calling him the same nickname, but it's obvious that it's weak, because Peeta doesn't even budge.

"Come on," he says, lunging for him. "Don't you want to just get it over with and go home? Get back to your little girlfriend?"

"More than anything," he says, taking a step backwards. She's reminded of watching him during wrestling, the way that he and his opponent would circle each other.

"Then do it," he says. "We both knew you were going to win, didn't we? Get it over with! Don't be a coward! I'll bet she doesn't even like you… She'll like you even less if you come back in a casket. Oh! Oh, that one works then, doesn't it?"

Peeta is staring at him now.

"Are you going to finish this now?" he asks, stepping towards him. "Come on and fight me like a man, loverboy."

He does, wrestling h

* * *

im to the ground easily enough. It's only there for a second, flashing in his eyes, but she sees it, sees how hard this is. Then he starts taunting him again.

"What's the matter, loverboy? Aren't you man enough? Come on! Just get this over with!"

He pulls the knife from his leg, and she squeezes Prim's hand tightly, watching as he _gets it over with_.

* * *

They show him some of the interviews during the recap, and she can't quite get a read on his face while she tells the story, just that his smile is slightly _different _than it was when he saw Delly, or his brothers. He talks about his girl during the final interview, not revealing much other than how gorgeous she is and how he's noticed her ever since the first day of school.

* * *

Prim insists on leaving early for his homecoming, so that they can get a good spot, and they're still to the back. She thought that a lot of people showed up to record interviews, but even more came out to see him come back. She's amazed, really, by how loudly everyone cheers for him when the train whips into the station. She's not sure, but she thinks that he looks at her from the platform. She looks away, embarrassed, unable to think of anything other than how she was too stupid to say anything before he left.

* * *

**Author's Note:  
This story is a retelling, I guess, of another one I had posted a while back, called "Playing the Odds". I've altered so many events in the timeline of the story that I thought it needed to be retold from the start, so here's this. The title is a variation of a lyric from "Always" by Panic! at The Disco. Check me out on Tumblr! I'm .com, or, if all you want are the fanfic updates, you can also follow me at .com. Either way, I don't bite, and I'd love to chat!  
**


	2. Chapter One

Never in her life has Katniss seen District Twelve so happy. Rather than pretending that it never happened, people are celebrating. For weeks after the games are over, specials about his arena are played on the screen in the square that's usually taken down as soon as the victor's homecoming is played and required viewing is over. This year, though, specials are played. Commentaries dedicated to all of his kills. She caught some of that one on her way home from school one day, and she felt sick, watching again as he tried to wake up the girl from five that ate his berries. Every day after that, she walks a little bit more quickly.

After the cameras leave, she doesn't see him. In History class, his seat is just as empty as it was when he was in the arena, and it unsettles her in a way that she can't quite figure out. He's fine. She knows this. It would be impossible not to, with the way that the whole district, no, the whole country is celebrating him these days. Maybe she's just been concerned about him for so long that it's a habit by now. It's almost a relief when she spots him in the window of his house in the Victor's Village. Less so when he calls for her the next week.

She freezes, caught, and watches as he makes his way across the grass. His footsteps are loud, uneven, it seems, and she takes a deep breath. One of the specials, the only one that played in her house, was about his new leg. Her mother and sister were fascinated. She couldn't get over the fact that it was something he was supposed to _take off_.

"Hey," he says, giving her a small smile. "I thought that was you."

She nods.

"I was wondering if you had anything left."

Her confusion must show, because he chuckles and nods toward her game bag.

"Oh," she says. "I do. I was on my way into town."

"Could I buy some?" he asks.

"Sure," she says. It's been strange, trading without Gale and the extra game he brings, but having someone new – someone as rich as Peeta – could make things easier.

"Great. Thank you," he says. "Come with me?"

She nods, following him.

"How has school been?" he asks.

"About normal," she says.

He nods, and it's quiet.

"Your seat is still empty," she adds before she can stop herself. "In History class, I mean."

"Oh," he says quietly.

She can't believe that she even brought that up. What difference does it make to him?

"It's still strange not going," he says after a while. "I'd ask if I've missed anything, but…"

She smiles, knowing what he means. "Well, the Capitol has gotten a lot of use out of our coal over the years."

He laughs loudly, his shoulders shaking. "When I was there, I saw a fireplace just full of it and I swear I heard her voice in my head."

She chuckles, and he turns to look at her, grinning.

Once they're up the steps, he pulls the door open and motions for her to go first. The house smells fantastic, like bread and something else that she can't quite place. It's strange, being invited inside. She normally deals at back doors.

"So is there anything you're looking for?" she asks, fiddling with the strap of her bag. "I can keep an eye out for it next time if I don't have it tonight."

"Nothing in particular," he says. "I thought maybe I could buy it all? If that's okay."

"I need one of the rabbits for dinner tonight."

"I'm sure we could work something out," he tells her, and she pulls the bag over her head, handing it to him. "So, other than learning about coal, I haven't missed much?"

"No," she says. "Not really."

"Like I said. It's strange. I got so close to graduation, and it's nothing to complain about, really, but it's strange."

"I could pick up your books," she offers, not sure what else to say. "Are they at school?"

"The bakery," he says. "I was studying for that History test. How did it go?"

"It was canceled," she says. "You were very popular that day."

He chuckles, turning towards the icebox. "That's good to hear."

She watches as he unloads the bag. She wants to say something else, give him more news, but she can't think of anything, not off of the top of her head.

"Do you take money or would you prefer something else?" he asks, zipping her bag back up and turning around to give it back.

"Money is fine," she says, because she gets all of the bread she needs when she trades at the bakery anyway. He smiles, digging down into his pocket, and pulls out a little brown bag.

"Here," he says. "If that's not enough, just let me know, okay?"

She nods, and he hands it to her.

"This is way too much," she says. "I can't take this."

"Nonsense," he smiles. "It's yours."

"Are you sure?" she asks. This would be enough to buy everything on her list for at least two trips.

"Of course,"

She drops the bag into her pocket. "Thank you."

"Oh, it was my pleasure," he says. "You know, my father will probably buy those squirrels from you. They're his favorite."

She does know. She's been trading with his father for years. One glance up to the shine in his eyes tells her that he knows, too.

"I'll keep it in mind," she says.

"If you're headed there, do you think you'd mind telling him hi for me?"

"I can do that," she says.

"Great. Thank you, Katniss."

She nods, getting ready to leave when he reaches his hand out to shake hers. It's a little bit strange, but she does it.

"Oh," he says, heading for one of the counters on the other side of the room. "Before you leave, can you do me a favor?"

"Okay,"

"Take some of these with you?" he asks, and she turns to see that he's standing in front of a bunch of little frosted cookies. "For your sister, maybe? They'll go to waste if you don't, and I made way too many."

"Um…"

"Please?" he asks, grabbing a little white bag and piling a bunch of them in there.

"Thank you," she says, reaching out for it, and he smiles so widely, like this really was a favor.

"No, thank you. I'll see you later, okay?" he asks, walking her to the door. "Next time you go out, please feel free to come by."

"Okay," she says, surprised that he can actually manage to make it sound like this a favor she's done for him. "See you later."

When she unzips her bag at the bakery, she notices why it felt so full. Peeta didn't leave her just one, but all four of the rabbits, and all of the squirrels.

"Are you okay, Katniss?" his father asks.

"I'm fine," she says. "I have some squirrels."

"Oh," he smiles. "How many?"

She forgets to pass on Peeta's message until the very last second, when Mr. Mellark is about to close the door.

"Peeta wanted me to tell you hi. From him."

He waits, obviously expecting a second part to the message, but there is none. He just nods.

"Well, if you see him again, please tell him the same from me. And that we miss him around here."

Something about the statement strikes her as strange, but she nods. 

It feels strange, wrong, almost, to trade in the hob with money rather than game. She actually feels out of sorts when she realizes just how much money is in the bag he gave her. Obviously her idea and Peeta's idea of _enough _is very different. They treat her just the same for it, though. Greasy Sae even winks, telling her that if she's not careful, they'll come to expect it. She gets everything on her list and a new ribbon for Prim's hair, and it hardly seems like she's made a dent in the money. She tucks it into a zippered pocket on the inside of her bag. 

Prim is beside herself when she sees the ribbon, but even that pales in comparison to her face when she sees Peeta's gift. She convinces herself, then, that it was the right thing to take them, because surely nothing that makes her sister _and _the giver so happy could be such a bad thing.

She's not planning on going back to Peeta's house, but he sees her again.

"Hey!" he says, smiling. "Back already?"

"Yeah," she says, glancing towards town. "I'm sure you're not out yet, though."

"That doesn't matter," he says. "I'll buy it if you'll let me."

"Okay," she says.

He grins. "Come with me?"

"I'll wait here," she says.

She hears the Peacekeeper before she sees him. Careful footsteps marching across the newly fallen leaves, she'd know the sound anywhere. She's still surprised when they circle around to face her and it's not one that she knows.

"What, exactly, is your business here?"

She doesn't have an answer. Not one that wouldn't get her in more trouble then she already is. The Peacekeeper yanks the bag off of her shoulder, and Katniss watches helplessly as he opens it. He looks surprised for a moment, glancing back and forth between her and the game, and then his face is a careful mask again, and he grabs her by the wrist, dragging her into town. She stumbles behind him, trying to match his pace but knowing that it won't matter if she doesn't, he'll just drag her.  
Was she informed on? Something tells her that when it was just Haymitch in the Victor's Village, they didn't have anyone patrolling it. Maybe it has something to do with Peeta, she thinks as the Peacekeeper binds her wrists with rough rope.

_Peeta. _The thought pulls her up short. It must have been Peeta. This must have been his plan all along. That would explain why he wanted her to come back. Was he trying to lull her into a false sense of security? But couldn't he have done that when she left his house the first time? Maybe he wanted her to have a full load. Still, it doesn't make much sense. With all of the trading her and his father did – trading that Peeta obviously knew about – he could have called to inform on her years ago. Maybe it was being in the arena. It changed him. _Into what? _She wonders. _His mother? _

The panic doesn't set in, not really, until she hears the whip crack behind her. The pain is instant, and she collapses against the ground. There's a crowd forming around her, talking amongst themselves.  
She catches sight of Darius, a redheaded Peacekeeper in the crowd and he shakes his head, almost imperceptibly, but it doesn't even matter what he means, because then the whip is cracking again. 

* * *

**Author's Note:  
**  
**Ahhh! I'm sorry, guys! Thank you for all of the support on this story - see you next Friday! And if you're interested in more, check me out on Tumblr. I'm arollercoasterthatonlygoesup for normal stuff, but if all you want are fic updates, check out burnt-bread-and-dandelions over there. Thanks! **


	3. Chapter Two

"Oh, Katniss," she hears someone say, the words breathed against the back of her hand. "I'm so sorry."

Sorry? She tries to open her eyes, but it's hard, it's so hard to focus on anything other than the aching pain in her back. She manages to force them open, and the boy in front of her makes a noise somewhere between a laugh and a sigh.

"You're awake!"

She nods, wondering why he said it like she may not have noticed. Her hand is still right by his mouth, and he lowers it slowly, still holding onto it. That's when she recognizes him. He's not the smiling golden boy from the arena or the stubborn-jawed fighter from the arena. No, this is Peeta Mellark, the one that threw her the bread all those years ago. With the side of his face red and swollen and covered in what must be dried blood, it's even easier to see.

"I was just saying how sorry I am," he says gently. "I never thought this would happen. I just wanted…" he trails off, and she can hear the pain in his voice. "I just wanted to _help_. I didn't think they would… do that."

The way that he's looking at her, so sad and so sincere, is almost enough to make her feel bad about thinking it was his plan.

"Your mother just left," he tells her. "She had to all but drag your sister out of here. I asked them to stay but apparently she had to go to Mrs. Anderson's house, since she's having her baby."

"She does," she says, her voice kind of muffled because of the pillow her face is pressed into. She's too exhausted to lift her head, and either way, Peeta seems to understand her. "They paid her months ago."

"She taught me some stuff before she left," he tells her. "About the medicine Madge Undersee brought for you. It's called Morphling. I've been instructed to keep you on a very strict schedule."

She nods, and he squeezes her hand.

"I'm so sorry."

"When did they stop?" she asks, the words tumbling out of her mouth. "I thought… I didn't think they were going to."

He breaks eye contact for the first time, looking down at their hands. She doesn't get an answer for a while. She's almost sure that she isn't going to get one at all when he speaks.

"I don't think they were planning on it, either," he says gently. "You know Darius?" he asks. "The Peacekeeper?"

She nods, remembering the way that he had looked at her.

"I heard that after about twenty lashes, he stepped in and said it was enough, but that Thread – the new head – didn't listen to him. He was out cold by the time I got there, and I wish I could say it wasn't long until I showed up, but it took me a while to get out there, so I'm not sure."

"You came?"

He nods. "Yeah. You were knocked out, too, when I showed up. I was afraid I was too late."

It's quiet for a while. "But you weren't."

"Yeah," he says softly.

"So what happened?" she asks, determined to get the story out of him.

"They didn't recognize me," he says. "Not at first, I mean. After a while, though, they did."

It takes her a second to realize what he means.

"You… You…" she can't even find the words. "Peeta."

"I really am sorry," he says.

"You stepped in!" she says, her voice hoarse. "You stepped in front of the whip. Why would you do that?"

He shakes his head, giving her the smallest of smiles.

"Your cheek,"

"What about it?"

"It hurts, doesn't it?"

"I've had worse," he says, and she's sure that she's not supposed to see the way that he glances over at her back because of how quickly he does it.

"Don't you need some of the medicine?"

He chuckles. "I really shouldn't be the one you're worried about, Katniss."

"Stubborn," she mumbles, and he smiles.

"Can I get you anything?" he asks. "Some water? Something to eat? I still have some of those cookies if you want them."

"I'm okay," she says.

"Are you sure?" he asks.

"I'm okay,"

"Well, let me know if that changes."

She yawns.

"Are you tired?" he asks.

"No," she says. "How long was I out?"

"Maybe about twelve hours? I'm not sure," he says. "You were reaching for you sister earlier, and we thought you were going to wake up then but you didn't."

"You have to be tired, then," she says.

"Oh, I'm fine. I slept earlier."

He doesn't look like he's lying, and she sort of doesn't want to be alone, so she nods. She realizes that he's still holding onto her hand, but somehow after everything he's done tonight, this doesn't seem too strange, so she lets him.

"So, I never thanked you for that interview," he says. "Effie, my escort, she told me that was when I got the medicine. It means a lot to me. Did you really think you had to thank me, though?"

She tries to shrug, but it hurts too much.

"Katniss?" he asks.

"I never did. I still never did. I should have."

"No," he says. "It doesn't matter."

"Yes, it does. You saved my life."

It's quiet; he's just staring at her. "I-"

"You keep doing this and I can't… I can't…" she can't seem to get any words out. She sucks in some air, trying to find the right words. "I can't… I… You… You… You… I…"

"Katniss," he says, brushing the hair out of her face. "_Breathe_."

She tries to calm herself down. "You keep doing this," she says again. "I can't pay you back."

He sighs. "You're not supposed to. That's not how it works. Even if-"

"It's been years," she tells him, interrupting him. "I didn't thank you. I was going to, before you left, but I… I couldn't."

"That's why you..." he trails off, chuckling.

"What?" she asks.

"I thought you knew her!" he says. "I thought you were saying goodbye. I remember because I thought that… that I wished I knew you well enough that you would say goodbye to me,"

"What?" she asks. "Why?"

He just shakes his head. "You know, I would have died out there if I hadn't gotten that medicine,"

There's something about the way that he says it, so factually, that makes her squeeze his hand. "No, you wouldn't have."

"Sure I would have," he says. "Cato would've gone home."

"Stop it," she says.

"My point is that I wouldn't have gotten that medicine without you. If you're worried about getting even, that should be it,"

"You did it again, though. Besides, you don't get it. If you hadn't given me that bread, I wouldn't have been here to record the interview in the first place."

"And if you hadn't recorded the interview, I wouldn't have been here to do it again."

It's quiet for a while. She can tell, just looking at him, that this isn't a fight he's willing to lose.

"Either way," she says. "Thank you."

"You're the stubborn one," he says, his eyes shining the way that they did when he suggested that she go trade with his father.

She rolls her eyes, kind of smiling.

"Seriously though," he says. "Do you want one of those cookies?"

* * *

**Author's Note: **  
**Thanks for all of the support for this story, you guys! I'm continually amazed. **


	4. Chapter Three

"I wish you would eat something," he tells her for what much be the thousandth time, brushing her hair away from her eyes with just the tips of his fingers.

"I'm fine," she says. They've been doing this all night long. She doesn't think that she could possibly sit up without tearing her back in half. Just laying on what she's discovered to be his kitchen table is painful enough. He hasn't been deterred, though, by her saying that she's not hungry. On the chair beside him sits the little white bag of cookies. He had seemed so sure that they would work.

He shakes his head, sighing, but he doesn't argue. "You know, I met your sister today. She's coming over tomorrow after school."

This is the next part of their routine, changing the subject. She's surprised he hasn't brought this up yet.

"What do you think?" she asks.

"I think she's absolutely crazy about you."

"Yeah?" she asks.

"Oh, definitely. You should have seen her taking care of you, Katniss. It was incredible. She and your mother barely even spoke to each other when they were working on your back. I felt incredibly stupid just watching."

She smiles, knowing the feeling. "It's like that when they bring people in from the mines."

"You're not a healer?" he asks.

"Far from it."

"Good, because I don't get it."

"I don't, either. I take after my father. We used to leave. We didn't even have to go far, just around back," she tries to continue but her mind is stuck on her father. What would he think of all of this? Of her getting caught? "The house gets crowded," she tells him. "The family always stays."

He chuckles, but it sounds forced.

"You two are close," he says, and for a moment, she wonders if he might not know about her father. It must be obvious, because he chuckles. "You and your sister."

"She's a great kid,"

"No," he says. "I mean, she is, but it's more than that."

"She's my baby sister," Katniss says. "I love her."

"It's not just that," he insists. "I've never seen anything like it in my life."

"Oh, come on," she says.

"I'm serious. My brothers wouldn't be caught dead walking me to school but you two walk together every single day," he says, not asking but telling her.

She thinks about this for a moment, about the relationship that she's observed between Peeta and his brothers. Levi didn't volunteer for him, and in his interview, he didn't act like he thought he should have.

Suddenly, she understands what it meant when his father sent that message with her. Obviously his father – and his brothers for that matter – must not be particularly concerned with keeping him company. No wonder he thinks her relationship with Prim is so impressive. He's alone in this big house, just like his mentor.

A buzzer goes off on the other side of the room, effectively stopping the conversation. He hurries across the room.

"Sorry!" he says. "It's a timer for the medicine."

"It's fine," she says.

"This might hurt a little bit," he warns when he's back at the table, showing her a syringe.

She nods, and _he_ winces when he pushes it down. It doesn't hurt much. Maybe as much as getting her blood drawn for the Reaping, but then there's something else. She feels the Morphling in her veins, cool and relieving and she actually sighs, earning herself a grin from Peeta.

"Better?" he asks, sitting down.

The words come out without her permission. "Your dad wanted me to tell you that they miss you."

"Oh," he says quietly. She thinks he sounds upset. She can't believe she actually said that. "I haven't seen them since I got home."

Before she can stop herself, she grabs his hand. He looks down at it, obviously surprised, but doesn't try to pull it away or anything.

"I'm sorry," she says, and her voice won't come out much more than a whisper. She tries to tell herself that it's because she knows she shouldn't have done that. He still doesn't act like he minds too much, though, he actually squeezes it.

"It's okay," he tells her. "They're really busy. Now that I'm not out there, they've got some slack to pick up."

"Do you miss it?" she asks.

"Sort of," he says. "Mostly, I just feel wasteful. I don't really have anything to do with everything I want to bake."

"Is that going to be your talent?"

"No. I think I'm going to do painting."

She thinks of the camouflage he used in the arena. "You'll be good at that."

"Oh, no, not yet, at least," he says. "I had a bunch of supplies sent in on the train, but it's harder to work with paint than with frosting."

She nods, trying to pretend like she understands.

"Canvases show a lot better on TV than cakes. At least, that's what Effie told me."

"Your cakes would've shown fine," she says, her words running together. He must understand her, because he grins.

The medicine is strange, she thinks. It doesn't make her feel heavy, like the sleep syrup. Instead, she feels feather light, free of the pain even though her mind keeps on reminding her that it's only a matter of time until it comes back.

"Thank you," he says, still grinning as he reaches forward and brushes the hair away from her eyes again. "I'll make you one. As soon as you're ready, okay?"

She tries to laugh, but he looks so sincere. "Peeta," she manages. "Don't."

He laughs. "Not yet, then? We could start with breakfast."

"You really don't have to."

"I didn't think I did," he says.

"I can't sit up."

"Who said anything about sitting up?" he asks patiently.

"I have to-" she stops when he starts shaking his head. "What?"

"I'm sure we can work something out. Just be honest, if I make something, will you eat it?"

She nods, and he shoots up instantly, going into the other side of the room, the one he got the Morphling from.

"What do you like, Katniss?" he asks, flipping a few light switches.

"Oh, anything," she says honestly.

"I can do that," he tells her, smiling.

She watches him for a while as he pulls out eggs and bowls and all kinds of other things that she either can't see or can't get a good enough look at. He keeps looking over his shoulder at her while he works, just smiling away, and she wonders why he's so happy to be cooking.

She wonders about Prim, whether or not she'll have breakfast this morning, or anything to take for lunch. Maybe she can get Peeta to put some aside for when Prim comes over after school.

She's not sure when, exactly, she falls asleep, but when she wakes up, it's because Peeta is rubbing patterns onto the back of her hand.

"Sorry," he says. "I hate to wake you, but breakfast is ready. I didn't think it would be as good cold."

"Thanks," she manages, and before she thinks better of it, she pulls arm up.

Peeta stops her before she manages to put any weight on it with a hand on top of hers. "You might not want to do that," he says gently.

She sighs. "Ugh. Sorry."

"Don't be," he says. "Are you ready to eat, then?"

She nods, wondering how this is going to work.

He brings over a huge tray and sits in front of her, balancing it on his lap. "Okay," he says, scooping up a forkful of eggs. "I scrambled them, because I had no idea how you liked them. I hope that's okay."

"Of course it is," she says, taking the fork from his hand. Her hand shakes when she tries to prop herself up on her shoulder, though, and the whole forkful of eggs falls to the floor.

"I'm so sorry!" she says.

"It's not a big deal," he reminds her, taking the fork back and loading it up again. She doesn't reach for it, though, still embarrassed from her first attempt. He isn't deterred, though, he just puts it up to her mouth.

"Is this okay?" he asks.

"Sure," she says, because it all smells so good and if she wants any of it, she really doesn't have a choice. He nods, smiling, and she opens her mouth, taking a bite of the eggs.

It's incredible, how completely at ease he seems doing this. This isn't the first time tonight that she thinks that it's a wonder that he's not the child of a healer.

"This is amazing," she tells him honestly, and he turns red.

"Oh. Well, thanks. It's pretty easy, though. I just added some milk."

"Whatever you did, it's good."

He smiles and cuts a bite of something else. "Here, try this."

"What is it?" she asks.

"I'm not sure what they called it, actually. Basically, you make toast and then coat it in egg and then eat it with syrup and powdered sugar. I think you'll like it."

She nods and opens her mouth. She's positive she's never had anything like this in her life, it's so fluffy and sweet and warm. She sighs, and he grins just like he did after he gave her the medicine.

He keeps on doing it like this, bite after bite, brushing the hair out of her eyes, explaining the different foods he made and not accepting her compliments. It's so good, all of it, that she forgets to ask him to set some aside for Prim.

"So," he says. "You said you used to leave with your father. Do you still?"

She nods. "I'm not much use there. I kill things."

He smiles. "I was supposed to tell you…" he trails off, and she takes a deep breath.

"I'm guessing I'm not supposed to do that anymore?" she supplies, trying to keep her voice light, because what other option does she have? To cry?

"He mentioned something about a firing squad. I'm so sorry, Katniss. If I had thought, even for a second, that-"

"Stop," she says. "Don't… Don't be sorry."

"But I-"

"Stopped them. Nobody else I trade with would have done that," she says. Maybe she could be angry with him, if he hadn't stopped them, or if he hadn't just made and _fed _her a huge breakfast, or if she wasn't staying in his house, but with the way that he can't seem to stop apologizing, she thinks it's almost impossible to.

He thinks about it for a few seconds and then stands up.

"Where are you going?" she asks.

"I forgot something," he tells her, hurrying into another room. "I couldn't convince them to let me be the one to clean it out, and I don't know what was in there, so it's completely empty now."

She listens to his footsteps as he comes back in. He stands in front of her, holding up something that she doesn't recognize at first.

"I didn't know what they were going to do with it, but I thought you might want it."

Her breath catches in her throat when she realizes that it's her game bag. She hadn't even thought about it yet, all of the memories of her father that are wrapped up with it, almost lost forever.

"You know," she tells him, even closer to crying now than before. "Nobody else would have done that, either."


	5. Chapter Four

Peeta doesn't understand it when she holds the bag against her chest, but he doesn't ask. She's glad that he doesn't, honestly. Glad not to have to explain why, exactly, the bag is getting such a reaction out of her because in all honesty, she doesn't even know what she would say.  
The bag is useless now, at least for its old purpose. It won't hold her game anymore, the way that it had for her father all those years before it was hers. She's not even sure what it will do now besides collect dust at home, but that doesn't matter. It was saved. _Peeta saved it for her_. Standing up to a Peacekeeper always has a cost – as evidenced by the cuts on his face – so there's no telling how much money he spent on this bag.

"Are you okay?" he asks, leaning in closer, maybe to get a better look at her. "Do you need more medicine?"

"No," she says, reaching up to wipe her eyes – when did she start crying? – the movement sends a whole new wave of pain across her back, though, and she groans. "Maybe. It's not too soon?"

"Nah. We've got plenty and I sent for some on the next train, just in case."

"So I'm not going home tomorrow?" she asks.

"I'm sorry," he tells her. "Your mother was afraid of infection. She said that normally it wouldn't be such a big deal, but they had you for so long before I showed up that it's better to be safe than sorry."

She thinks of the layer of coal dust that her father always hated so much settling in the cuts in her back, of her skin healing up around it, and shudders. "Thank you," she whispers.

"What?" he asks.

"Thank you," she says again, her voice a little bit stronger this time. "For letting me stay here."

"Oh, no. It's the least I could do after–" the look she shoots him silences him for a second. "Fine, then. You're welcome. I'm going to go get the medicine."

She sighs once he leaves, remembering how he presented the bag like he didn't think it would be enough. Like since he wasn't the one to clean it out – no doubt hiding as much of the contents behind zippers as he possibly could – that she wouldn't like it. No wonder her reaction surprised him so much.

"Okay, are you ready?" he asks, resting his free hand on her forearm. She nods, watching him instead of the syringe. He winces again this time, and she wonders why he acts like this is hurting him more than it hurts her. Maybe the medicine for his leg hurt when he was in the arena, and this makes him think of it.

When she wakes up, Peeta is asleep. His head is on the table beside her, and he's holding onto her hand again, the way that he was when she first woke up. She doesn't pull away this time, though, doesn't want to wake him up. This is the first time she's seen him asleep at all, and she has no idea how many times she's drifted in and out of sleep.

The light coming in from the windows gives her a good look at his cheek for the first time, and she inspects the still-swollen red lines across it. It must hurt, considering the pain in her back, but he hasn't complained at all. He's been giving her medicine, but she hasn't seen him take anything from himself. He didn't even really let her thank him. He just turned the whole thing around on her.

"Thank you," she whispers, taking her chance where she can get it. He sort of groans and she's afraid that she woke him up just to prove a point to herself, but he doesn't stir after that. His breathing is even, and she falls back asleep to it after a while.

"Yes, ma'am," she hears from behind her. "I'll tell her. I do, too. No, I think she's doing alright. I'm still not positive that I'm not just making things worse… Yes. Yes, I know."

It's quiet for a while.

"I understand, ma'am, and I know that she does, too. I just wish that things were different. Yes, I know. Thank you. I'll tell Prim you said so. You're welcome. Thank you. Okay, good luck. Goodbye."

She hears something click – maybe a phone? She thinks she's heard that sound at Madge's house before. There's a sigh from behind her, absolutely exasperated, and then she feels a hand running through her hair.

She cranes her neck as much as she can and Peeta comes around to the side he was on before, trying to give her a better look.

"Good morning," he says. "That was your mother. Mrs. Anderson's water still hasn't broken, so she has no idea when she's going to be able to come back by to check on you. I'm really sorry."

"It's fine," she says. "Prim will be here soon, right?"

"Right," he says. "I do wish that she could be here, though."

It's quiet for a while. She wishes that he could know how much better it will be with Prim here than with her mother. "I'm okay," she admits. "Really… You're doing a good job."

His face absolutely lights up at the compliment. "Thank you. Can I get you anything?"

"Maybe some water?" she asks.

"Of course," he says, heading off to the side of the kitchen that she's facing.

There's a straw in the glass, and even though he's the one holding it, she's grateful to be able to do at least part of this by herself.

Peeta looks almost proud, watching her, but that's ridiculous. Why should he be proud of her for getting a drink of water? No. That's dumb.

"What kind of bread do you like?" he asks after a while.

"Anything. Why?"

"I'm trying to figure out what to make for lunch," he says. "If you like it all, you wouldn't happen to know Prim's favorite, would you?"

"Those cookies," she says, and he smiles.

"Oh, really?"

"She loved them."

"What did you think?"

She looks down, feeling almost embarrassed. "I, uh, I didn't try one."

He raises his eyebrows, a teasing glint in his eyes. "Honestly, Katniss, I'm offended."

"I'll try one now," she tries, reaching towards the little white bag, but he shakes his head.

"Do you honestly think that I'm going to let your first cookie be one that's four days old?" he asks, shaking his head at her.

"No?" she says, but it comes out as a question.

"Absolutely not," he says, grinning. "We can do much better than that."

"Can we?" she asks.

"Oh, you have no idea," he says.

It's interesting, watching him bake. He seems completely in his element, pulling out bowls and flour. He doesn't even seem to have to read off a recipe, he just works efficiently.

"You know," he says after a while. "I don't require silence while I work."

She laughs, sort of uncomfortable.

"Okay, then," he says, and she can hear the smile in his voice. "I guess I'll go, then. I always liked making these. They were the first cookies my father taught me how to frost on."

"The ones you sent home with me were beautiful," she tells him.

"Oh, thank you. I couldn't sleep that night, so I figured I might as well do something productive, you know?"

"Yeah," she says even though she doesn't know, not really.

He tells her about frosting once the cookies are in the oven and he's mixing it together. He makes it sound so simple when he rattles off the ingredients that she just tries to smile and nod, because she's so lost.

"This is so boring, isn't it?" he asks. "I'm sorry."

"No," she says, but he glances over his shoulder, obviously not believing her. "I'm just not a baker," she admits. "It's not that I'm not interested I just… I don't know about any of that."

"Well, maybe I'll have to teach you," he says. "I did promise you a cake, right?"

"And I said you didn't have to make one, I remember?"

"That doesn't matter," he says. "I promise, once you're all healed up, we'll make a cake."

She knows better than to argue with him, so she just nods.

"It's a plan, then," he says, turning back towards the counter and spooning the frosting into a bag. A timer on the oven goes off and he pulls the tray of cookies out with a potholder, setting it down beside the bowl of frosting.

"These are easy," he says. "Haymitch seems to like them enough, so I've made them a few times now."

"Do you and Haymitch spend a lot of time together?" she asks.

"About as much time as you can spend with someone like him," he tells her, pulling himself up to sit on the counter while he waits for the cookies to cool. His pant leg rides up a little bit and she catches just a glimpse of the metal replacement for his leg before he repositions himself and it's covered. "I'll bring him bread, some cookies if I have them. Sometimes he'll drag himself over here to eat with me, but most of the time he just keeps to himself."

She wants to ask him if that means that he's spending as much time alone as she thinks he is, but she decides against it.

"Have you ever met him?" he asks.

"No."

He nods. "I hadn't either. He really doesn't leave much if there aren't cameras around."

Maybe solitude comes with winning. She thinks about how long it took for her to see him at all, how the only time she's heard of him being in town was when he stopped the whipping. _At least he's not drunk_, she reminds herself, not entirely sure why she should care if he is or not. After a while he touches one of the cookies that he moved over to the other tray and hops down.

"This is the fun part," he announces, picking the frosting bag back up and twisting it closed. He gets his whole body into it, different parts of his arms and back flexing and relaxing as he works on different parts of the design that he's working on. She can't see the flower, but it's interesting enough just watching all of the effort that goes into it.

He turns around, catching her staring, but is nice enough not to say anything. Instead, he holds up the cookie, displaying the little white rosebud on it.

"Oh, wow," she says. "That's incredible."

He flushes. "Thank you. Anyway, yeah, that's… that."

He goes back to work, moving more quickly now, flower after flower, and setting them down on the butcher's paper beside him.

"How long have you been doing this?" she asks, amazed by how easy he makes it look.

"I don't know, actually. Ever since I can remember, I guess. Not big things like this, but, you know, cracking eggs into bowls, reading out recipes – once I actually could read, – helping to sweep up flour. Stuff like that."

"I didn't know you started working there so early."

"Well, my brothers and I didn't have much of a choice, considering where we lived," he says, and she knows that it's supposed to be a joke, but it seems sad, not having a choice. Prim is a healer because she loves it, not because her mother made her do anything, and it was the same with Katniss and hunting. She remembers the stories her mother used to tell about working in the apothecary as a girl. It must be a town thing, then. Children aren't allowed in the mines unless it's on a Capitol sanctioned field trip, so it wouldn't work much in the Seam.

"My father always told me that baking is the sort of thing you share," he says, putting what's left of the frosting into the icebox. "I think that's why he would give us those little jobs. He wanted us to love it the way that he did."

"And you do," she says.

"I do," he agrees, picking up a few of the cookies and a syringe of Morphling and bringing them over to her.

The Morphling is as much of a relief as always. The cookie is sweet and melts in her mouth, though, and the frosting flower tastes even better than it looks. She almost can't decide which one is her favorite.

"This is incredible," she announces, and he turns red again.

"Thanks," he says.

To prove her point, she leans forward as much as she can when he holds the next one out, but she does it right as he's close enough to give it to her and she winds up with a face full of frosting. She freezes.

"Oh! I'm sorry," she says.

There's no sound at first, but she knows that he's laughing when his face scrunches up and his shoulders start to shake. Then, it's loud, and only seems to get louder when he looks at her.

"Sorry," she tries again.

"You… Your…" he tries, but he can't get it out. "You should wear frosting more often," he offers once he's composed himself. "It suits you."

"Oh, be quiet," she says, but that only makes him lose it again, and this time, she can't help but to laugh with him.

He reaches forward and wipes it first off of her top lip with his thumb, and then off of the tip of her nose. This is all so absurd, she thinks. Katniss Everdeen laughing with Peeta Mellark because she got frosting all over herself, but that only sends her laughing harder.  
**  
**Once they're both calmed down, he offers her the cookie again, and she manages to eat it without any mess this time. Even though he's not laughing anymore, the grin stays on his face for a long time.

"What?" she asks.

"Nothing. It's just… This is going to sound really terrible."

"What?" she asks.

"I really like hanging out with you," he says. "I wish this was all under different circumstances, of course, but…"

She waits for him to finish his sentence, but he doesn't.

She can't remember the last time that she _hung out _with anyone. Maybe never. When she and Gale would go into the woods, it was to feed their families. Any fun that they had was coincidental, not the point of their trips. Besides, he started work in the mines this summer, and they can only go out on Sundays. She and Madge have lunch together, but they don't talk much. Even this isn't hanging out, not really. This is her staying at his house while he nurses her back to health, but there's something about the way that he treats her – more friend that patient – that makes it feel this way. Besides, Peeta himself is different, so open and friendly and kind,

"No, you don't sound terrible," she says. "I like it, too."

She has never seen him smile as widely as he does now. 


	6. Chapter Five

She feels incredibly spoiled, just laying there and watching as Peeta makes food for her for a third time. He doesn't seem to mind, though. In fact, every single time Peeta turns around to look at her, there's a smile on his face. He's working on bread, this time, and even though her eyelids are feeling heavy, she's fascinated that he remembers everything it takes.

"How do you remember everything?" she asks.

"I'm not sure," he admits, and there's that smile again. "I guess it's just because of how long I've been doing it. I still need a recipe for a lot of things but sugar cookies and white bread I can whip out pretty fast… So they're perfect for showing off."

"You're showing off?" she asks. Why should he be trying to impress her?

He goes back to mixing the ingredients together before he speaks again. "Maybe a little. Is it working?"

His tone is so playful that she actually laughs. His tone is so playful that she actually laughs. For some reason, it must be the Morphling, his mood is contagious. She'd much prefer his attitude to hers, though, so she'll take it. She'll need to remember to thank Madge for this medicine, for the numbing and the laughter and the weightlessness and the heaviness and everything else that it brings along with it at the same time.

"I'll take that as a yes, then," he says, and she can hear the smile in his voice.

She doesn't argue with him, partially because it wouldn't be worth it but also partially because maybe it _is_ working. Not that she needs to tell him that, or even wants to, really.

It doesn't take long for her to start getting tired again. Peeta hears it when she yawns, and she's irrationally embarrassed when he turns to look at her.

"Are you tired?" he asks.

"I shouldn't be. I've slept more today than any other day of my life."

"That doesn't matter," he says. "They said you'll need to sleep it off, and I doubt that medicine is helping you stay up."

She nods.

"You should get some rest," he says.

"But the bread…" she trails off, positive that she sounds pathetic.

"… Won't be finished for a while," Peeta finishes for her, smiling. "It still has to rise before I can put it in the oven."

She sighs.

"I can wake you up when it's finished," he offers. "Just get some rest, Katniss."

She knows that she's not good company when she keeps on sleeping like this, but he doesn't seem to mind much, and sleep does sound pretty nice. She's out within moments.

"You were right," she hears Peeta saying. "She doesn't hate me."

"I knew she wouldn't," another voice, her sister's voice says. "Not once she knew the whole story."

"You do know her better than I do," he says.

"Peeta, is she the girl?" her sister asks, whispering. _The girl?_ What in the world is she talking about?

"So, be honest," Prim says, and it's obvious that whatever Peeta's answer was, if he gave her one, didn't require any words. "Has she let you take care of her at all?"

It's quiet for a long moment.

"Yes, actually," he says. "It's been nice,"

She watches as he crosses in front of her, pulling the bread out of the oven. She must not have been out _that _long, this time, then.

"Look," Prim says. "I'm sorry about Gale. He's not normally so… blunt."

"Gale was here?" she asks, and they both jump a little bit before they turn to look at her.

"Hey, Sleepyhead," Prim says, obviously trying to change the subject.

"What did Gale do?" she asks. Prim looks away, looking almost guilty. "Peeta?"

He runs his hand through his hair. "It was nothing, really, just a comment that he made. Prim took it more harshly than anyone."

"What did he say?" she asks.

"He walked me over here, and when Peeta thanked him for it, he…"

"Prim," she says when her sister trails off. "What did Gale say to you?"

"It wasn't to me, it was to Peeta," Prim says. "He said 'no problem. You know what happens to Everdeen girls on your lawn.'"

She's furious, probably irrationally so, considering the fact that she has no real right to feel protective of Peeta. Prim obviously told Gale that Katniss was in here, and that Peeta was taking care of her, so how dare he say anything to Peeta? Does he not understand how much _worse _this makes it? Not only is he doing her yet another favor that she could never repay him a thousand years, but Gale has insulted him for it. Couldn't he see the lashes on his face? The fact that Katniss was _on his table_?  
No, this is just classic Gale. She thinks about how angry he was at Madge over that stupid gold pin. When they're in the woods, he'll rant for hours about how the Capitol wants the people in the Seam to hate the Merchants, but that doesn't stop him from buying into it.

When she does finally manage to say anything, it's not even a word, just an irritated grunt.

"I think he's just afraid for you," Peeta says. "It _is _a perfectly reasonable-"

"Not at this point," Prim interrupts him. "You two are all anyone can talk about."

He just sort of chuckles. "Well, I can see his point. I'm not mad or anything."

"I am," Katniss says. "You're being so _nice _to me and he just… Doesn't get it."

"Well, it's not exactly like I'm doing anything for Gale Hawthorne's sake," he says, his eyes shining, and Prim smiles. "The bread is ready, by the way. You're up just in time."

He made some sort of a stew while she was sleeping, and Prim offers to feed it to Katniss when Peeta takes his seat in front of her again, but he tells her that he's fine if Katniss is.

"Yeah," she says, thinking about Prim asking if she had let him take care of her when they thought that she was asleep. "I think I am."

"Good," he tells her, brushing the hair out of her face again. "So am I."

"Sorry about Gale," she tries again, but he just shakes his head, smiling.

"It's not like it's your fault," he points out. "Don't worry about it."

"Are you sure?" she asks, resolving to yell at him the next time she sees him.

"Of course I am," he says.

She sighs. "How was school, Prim?"

"It was fine," Prim says. "I have to write an essay?"

"About what?" she asks.

"Doesn't matter," Prim says. "I don't think they'll get too mad at me if I miss one."

"I do," Katniss says. It's a lie, really. She doesn't know if they would get mad. She's never missed an essay – she's always been too afraid of having the Peacekeepers come after her. "You can't be a healer until you graduate, you know."

"I know," Prim says glumly. "I just didn't want to go home early."

"You don't have to. I can set you up upstairs," Peeta offers. "There's plenty of paper."

It's quiet for a minute as Prim chews.

"Do you want to stay here tonight, Prim?" Peeta asks, tearing off a piece of the bread for Katniss. "I know you'd have to explain it to Gale when he got here, but if it would be easier for you to be with your sister, then I think it would be worth it."

Prim grins, reaching out to grab his arm so hard that it must be painful. "Really?"

"Of course," he says. "You want to, then?"

Prim laughs, and Katniss thinks of how similar her reaction was when she brought those cookies home.

"Katniss?" Prim asks. "You don't think Mom would be–?"

"I'm allowed to stay here, aren't I?" Katniss asks. "Mom will be fine. I'm not saying she won't make you go home with her after she's done with the job, but you don't want to stay with the Hawthornes again, do you?"

Prim shakes her head.

"It's settled, then. You'll stay with us," Peeta says, offering Katniss a bite of the bread. She takes it happily and Peeta's smile somehow grows.

It's too painful to turn her head when there's a knock on the door, so she winds up slumping back down in her original position. Prim stares at the door when Peeta answers it.

"Hello, Gale," Peeta says pleasantly.

"Where's Prim?" Gale asks. "Is she ready?"

"Oh, uh… I…" Prim tries.

"She wants to stay with Katniss," Peeta explains.

Gale sighs. "Fine. Is she up?"

"Yes," Peeta says. "Do you want to come in?"

_No, no, no, no, _she chants in her head, but that doesn't stop him.

"Just for a minute," he says, and Katniss can't even hear his footsteps, only Peeta's.

Gale doesn't hesitate to drop into Peeta's chair, and Katniss tries hard not to glare at him.

"Hey, Catnip," he says, reaching for her hand, but she pulls it away. "I have to get home, Posy's sick. I just wanted to say that once you get out of here, we'll spend all day in the woods, just you and me,"

"We can't," she tells him, and she's not even sure that she would _want _to if she could, she's so mad.

"Sure, we can. We're just going to be more careful this time. Say we don't trade this time."

It would have been just as obvious as if he had repeated his comment earlier. "That wasn't… We can't, Gale."

"I should get going," he sighs. "Just think about it, Katniss." Gale gives her hand a squeeze and leaves. Peeta and Prim exchange a look as the door slams behind him, and Prim leans forward.

"Don't think about it, Katniss."

She tries to laugh it off, but her sister won't buy it.

"Did Peeta tell you what that Peacekeeper told him to say?"

"Sort of," Peeta says, stacking their now-cleared dishes and bringing them to the sink to wash them.

"They'll kill you, Katniss," she announces, not sugarcoating it at all. "They would have killed you already if Peeta hadn't stopped them."

"Prim," Peeta says gently, but that doesn't stop her.

"You can't, Katniss. You can't even think about it, okay?"

She will. She knows that she'll be in the woods again the second that the parcel day and tessera rations run out. There isn't another choice, not for her. The money from the Andersons was spent weeks ago, and they were the first patients in a while. She can't go into the mines until she's eighteen, and that's not to mention the fact that she couldn't make it out there more than a day. She knows that she shouldn't lie to her sister, but this isn't an argument that she wants to have, so she nods.

She doesn't think Prim buys this, either, but Peeta comes to her rescue.

"Hey," he says gently. "Let's get you set up, okay?"

"Fine," Prim says, and Katniss gives him an appreciative look before he leads Prim up the stairs.

They're gone for a long time, and she's just beginning to wonder whether he's just going to write the essay for her when she hears his footsteps coming back down the stairs. He sighs when he sits back down in front of her.

"What? Are you going to tell me not to think about it, too?" she asks, and she's trying to joke, but he gives her such a sad smile that she knows that he's serious.

"Things are changing, Katniss," he says, his voice quiet. "She knows it. That essay that she has to write is about _whipping. _That's what they talked about in class today. She's worried about you."

"I don't do it for fun, you know," she says.

"I know."

"Prim doesn't remember what it's like to go hungry. She was young then, but I remember, and I'm not going back."

"I don't want you to go back… We just don't want you to get killed."

She sighs. "Do you have a better option? Because I'd like to hear it,"

"We'll think of something," he says, obviously not realizing that she was being sarcastic. "I always have far too much food over here, too, so you can come over for dinner every night, if you want."

She sort of laughs at him and he grins.

"We'll think of something," he tells her again, more quietly this time, more to himself than to her. Maybe it's the medicine; it must be the medicine, because for a moment, she almost believes him. 

* * *

**Author's Note: **

What's this? A chapter in the middle of the middle of the night in the middle of the week? I do have my reasons, though. I'm leaving on Thursday morning to go to Texas for a concert with my sister, and since I won't be at home - or on my computer - until at least Friday afternoon, so I figured I'd just put it out early.  
So, this chapter makes a bit more headway into what I'm trying to do with the story. Sorry that Gale was sort of, uh, a jerk. I'm not trying to be too out-of-character, but what happened sort of needed to happen. Thanks for reading, everyone!


	7. Chapter Six

It's quiet. Peeta doesn't try to tell her not to go into the woods again, and she thinks that it's because he couldn't think of anything. It isn't surprising, really. That's exactly what she had tried to tell him in the first place. Still, she hates this silence, so she tries to let him off the hook by changing the subject.

"Do you think Prim meant it when she said everyone was talking about this?" she asks.

"Probably," he says. "I mean, I don't think I remember a head Peacekeeper who wasn't Cray."

"I don't either, but that wasn't what I meant. I meant… This," she says, motioning vaguely between the two of them. He waits for her to explain. "A Victor taking a whip to the face for some Seam girl?"

"You're not _some Seam girl,_" Peeta says, and she would think that he sounded defensive if she didn't know better. "They know your name."

"Even if they did, I'm not exactly the part of the story that's all that interesting,"

"Oh, come on," he says. "You have no idea, do you?"

"All I did was sit there and get whipped," she argues. "You're the one who stopped it, and then, like that wasn't enough, brought me to your house _in the Victor's Village_ so that you could _take care of me_."

"Katniss," he starts, but she shakes her head.

"They're going to talk about you," she continues. "They already do."

"Oh," he says. "Do they?"

She tries not to roll her eyes at him. He should know that he's been the talk of the country since his interview. "Of course they do."

"Do you?" Peeta asks.

"Do I what?" she asks, because there's no way that he's asking if she talks about him.

"Do you talk about me, Katniss?"

She almost laughs, the question is so blunt. "No. What would I talk about?"

"I don't know. What do people normally talk about?"

She rolls her eyes at him, but he still waits ever-so-patiently, resting his chin in his hand.

"I don't know. Just about you. Your interviews, your Victory Tour, Parcel Day, how nobody ever sees you around town. Stupid stuff like that."

He grins, looking completely satisfied.

"What?" she asks. "Doesn't it bother you?"

"Not really," he says. "You listened, though."

"It would be hard not to," she defends. "Especially when you were gone,"

"Okay," he grins, and she wonders, watching him, why he looks so proud.

It's quiet for a long time until finally, he stands up. "I'm going to bring Prim some water," he announces. "I'll be right back."

He's too much. She grabs his hand, trying to hold him in place while she tries to find the words. It works, Peeta freezes in place, watching her. "Are you okay? Do you need something?"

"I just… Thank you."

"Oh," he says. "You're welcome."

"No, I mean it. Thank you for letting me stay here. And Prim. All of this is just… I… Thank you."

"I mean it, too," he reminds her, giving her hand a squeeze. "I'll be back in a minute."

He isn't. Knowing that they were talking about her when they thought she was asleep earlier doesn't help her at all as far as not driving herself crazy wondering goes. She wouldn't have thought, before, that there would be anything for them to talk about, but apparently there is.

* * *

When Peeta comes back down, he apologizes, but Katniss realizes that it's because Prim is behind him.

"We have to change your bandages," Prim announces from behind him. "If you need more medicine, now would be the time to get it."

"I'm okay," Katniss says.

"Here we go," Prim says, peeling one of the bandages up. Katniss winces at the feeling of the air against the cuts. She doesn't miss the breath that Peeta sucks in once they're visible. "We'll let these breathe while I finish my essay and then cover them up before bed, just in case, sound good?"

Katniss nods, deciding that she doesn't want to know what they're keeping her covered up for enough to ask.

"Will she have scars?" Peeta asks, and his voice just quiet enough that she wonders is she's supposed to hear it.

"Yes," Prim says, and her voice is almost _too _patient, like she's dealing with a child. "She'll be fine, though. They won't hurt her once they're healed."

He sighs a little bit. "I'm-"

"It's fine, Peeta. I've got plenty of scars," Katniss interrupts, because she doesn't think she could handle another apology for him. Not after everything he's been doing for her.

"But-"

"It's fine," she insists. "Prim, how is your essay coming?"

"Okay," she says.

* * *

It isn't until her sister asks Peeta if he can still read over her essay once it's finished that she starts to feel left out.

"What?" Peeta asks.

"I usually read reports for her," she says. "It's just weird. I don't know what makes this one so different."

He raises his eyebrows, obviously waiting for her to get it, and she does.

"_Oh_," Katniss says. "She knows she doesn't have to protect me, doesn't she?"

"I don't think she thinks she _has _to," Peeta says gently, but it doesn't help.

"I'm her older sister._ I_ should be the one protecting _her_."

"You do," he reminds her. "You've been taking care of her for so long, Katniss. We just want to take care of you for a little while."

She thinks of what her sister asked him earlier. _Is she letting you take care of her? _

"I've been letting you," she says, stopping before she can add that he said so himself. If this makes him think that she overheard anything, he certainly doesn't show it. He just smiles.

"You have," he agrees.

"She's my little sister, though," she says, shaking her head. This is her last argument, she knows it.

Peeta reaches forward, brushing the hair away from her eyes again. She wonders if it bothers him more than it bothers her when it falls. "I know, Katniss. I know."

* * *

Prim gives Peeta her essay as soon as she gets downstairs, and Peeta mouths _sorry _as soon as Prim isn't looking.

"Is there anything else we can do?" Peeta asks, watching as Prim gets to work on the new wrappings.

"Not without snow," Prim says. "There's recipe for a snow coat in one of our mother's books, but it doesn't do us much good now."

"Guess I can't buy snow," Peeta says quietly. Katniss doesn't doubt that if it was at all possible, he would have a whole train full of snow shipped in just for her back.

The next dose of Morphling brings a whole new round of sleepiness with it. The only thing she hears before she drifts off is Peeta telling Prim to get some real sleep, since she's the only one with school in the morning.

"_Katniss_," Prim says.

"He's right," Katniss mumbles. She's only heard half of the conversation, really, but it doesn't matter. He probably is.

"I wasn't saying you had to go right now," Peeta tells Prim as Katniss' eyes finally shut. "Just that one of those beds up there is for you tonight."

* * *

There are no whispered conversations for her to listen in on when she wakes up.  
She's just about to fall asleep when she hears the way that Peeta is breathing, shallow and frantic, so unlike the steady rhythm from the night before.

It isn't until he groans, his face scrunched up tightly, that she realizes that he's having a nightmare. Slowly, because if she's being honest with herself, she doesn't know whether or not she should even be doing this, she reaches forward and runs her fingers through his hair. It doesn't work, at least, not at first, so she keeps doing it. She's combed through her sister's hair plenty of times before, but his is so _curly _that it's different. She's terrified of getting her fingers tangled in there and having to pull them free.

"Peeta," she tries, her voice as gentle as she can make it. "Peeta, wake up,"

He does, sitting straight up, and her hand flops down between them. He glances around the room a few times before his eyes land on her, and he relaxes.

"Hey."

"Hey," she says.

"Thank you."

"I'm sorry I had to wake you up. I couldn't calm you down."

"You didn't even have to try."

"Oh, come on," she says. "You should go on up to bed, though. This chair can't be good for your back."

"I'm not leaving you alone down here," he says, even as he yawns. "Don't be silly."

She rolls her eyes at him, because she's not the one being _silly_, but she sort of smiles. "At least get yourself a pillow.

This, he actually does, and she feels less guilty about keeping him downstairs.


	8. Chapter Seven

"Katniss," Prim says when she gets home from school, before the door is even shut behind her. "Is there _any_ extra money?"

Peeta glances between the two of them. "I should probably…" he doesn't finish his sentence. She's never heard him at a loss for words before. "I'll be back," he amends, standing up.

She's grateful for the privacy because she has to tell her sister the truth once she sits in front of her, taking his place. "There isn't any to start with. Why?"

"I have to… They're making us wear uniforms, and we don't qualify for the financial aid and I…" her voice trails off. Katniss knows that she doesn't want to get in trouble, certainly not if it's anything like what happened to her.

"We'll think of something," Katniss says, echoing Peeta's words from earlier. "Homework?"

She nods. "Plenty."

"Better get started, then," Katniss says. She hates sending her sister away like this, but she has to think of _something_. She promised.

Prim nods. "Think Peeta will let me use that room again?"

"You can ask him," Katniss says. She's almost certain that he will, but she'd hate to put him in an uncomfortable position.

* * *

She does get to be alone for a while, but it certainly isn't enough time to come up with anything that doesn't directly involve hunting. She's loath to admit it, but Peeta is right about it being dangerous, and she thinks she wants to end up like this again even less than Peeta wants her to.

"Hey," Peeta says, leaning against the wall. "You okay?"

"Fine."

"Really?" he asks.

She doesn't even answer him. What could she say?

"No chance you'll let me cover it?" he asks.

She shakes her head. She can't possibly be in any more debt to this boy, no matter how willing he seems.

"I figured you'd say that. I had an idea, though."

"What?"

"Well, my tour is coming up, and I have to be gone for about three weeks."

"I know."

"Well, I was thinking that I need someone I can trust to take care of things for me then, and you could use a job. It seemed like a perfect match to me."

"How dirty can things around here get?" she asks.

"I can't let my canvases get dusty," he says. "It's very bad for them."

She wonders if he's grasping at straws to try to keep her out of the woods, but Prim needs a new uniform, and she doesn't think she could ever forgive herself if her sister got in trouble because of her. "I might be able to work it in. You can trust me?"

He pretends to study her for a moment, forming a triangle with his hands to frame her. "Yes," he announces after a while, his smile teasing. "I think I can. You'll do it?"

She has to force the words out. "I'll do it. Do you think…? Could you maybe…? Prim needs a uniform."

"Of course," he says. "How does half now and half after sound?"

She can't help but to let out a relieved sigh at the fact that she won't have to ask him in as many words. "Thank you."

"Oh, no. Thank _you_," he says. "This is going to help me out a lot."

She doesn't think that she believes him.

"You're welcome," she says anyway. They could go around in circles all night, but she thinks, she hopes, he knows by now how much all of this means to her.

"I'll go get it now," he announces, absolutely beaming at her.

Okay, fine. Maybe it will help him a little. He couldn't possibly be so happy if it was just about helping her.

* * *

"Peeta," she says when he brings her the money. "No. Not again."

"What?"

"This is too much."

"No," he says. "Canvases are expensive."

"This has to be enough to replace two for every one that I save," she protests.

"You'd really be helping me out."

She wonders why it could possibly matter so much to him. She'd hate to argue enough to make him change his mind. "Okay," she says.

Peeta smiles at her, and if she didn't know better, she'd think she really was doing him a favor.

* * *

Her mother comes in late that night, and Katniss tries to stay awake.

"How is she doing?" she hears her mother ask.

"She's doing well," Peeta answers. "How are you? Do you need a bed? There are plenty."

"I don't think I want to leave her quite yet," her mother says quietly. "Thank you, though."

"Absolutely."

"Is there a bathroom or somewhere I could clean up?" she asks. "It's been a very long few days."

"Definitely," he says. "I'll show you. There's a shower upstairs, you're more than welcome to it, follow me."

It's quiet for a long time; Katniss just watches the wall, waiting for him to come back down. It's a lot shorter than a visit with her sister, that's for sure.

They're both asleep by the time her mother comes back down.

* * *

When she wakes up, it's because her mother is peeling the bandages from her back. She hears both her sister and Peeta making noises of agreement when her mother explains things, but she can't focus on the words, only the way that her back feels as the fresh air hits it.

"How did we do?" her sister asks.

"Very well," her mother is saying. "I can't thank you enough, Peeta. She wouldn't possibly be healing up this well if it weren't for you."

"Oh, Katniss already thanked me, ma'am," Peeta says gently. "I've been enjoying having her company, to be completely honest. Prim's, too. You have some great girls, Mrs. Everdeen."

Her mother sort of chuckles. "That I do, Peeta. I got very lucky."

Katniss is glad that she didn't try to take any credit for how Prim turned out, considering the years she spent having abandoned the both of them, but _lucky_ doesn't seem like quite right word with all of the effort that Katniss put in.

"Are you sure you don't need to get some sleep? Prim and I are more than fine keeping an eye on her."

"Oh, no, ma'am. I got plenty of sleep last night."

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely. I'm a baker's son. I learned how to get by with just a few hours of sleep."

"Your father was the same way," her mother says quietly.

Katniss can't fathom why she should know. 

* * *

It feels strange, more than when her sister came, being watched. She doesn't say anything when Peeta feeds her breakfast, but she exchanges one of those looks with her sister, the kind that Katniss thought she was free from after the Games.

"So, I was thinking," Peeta says when her mother and sister leave to get fresh clothes from the house. "Do you think you'd want to do this again sometime? Not all of it, obviously, but… You know."

"Do I have to stay on the table?" she asks, earning herself a laugh from him. A real, loud one, like the one she got from her joke about the coal that first night that they traded. That seems like so long ago, now.

"Not if you don't want to," he assures her.

There's absolutely no way that he actually wants to hang out with her once she's sent home, she's sure. He's just trying to be nice, no, not trying. He's just _being _nice. Isn't he always? "That sounds good," she tells him anyway, because maybe she should at least try to return the favor instead of arguing.

The next morning, Katniss' mother decides that Peeta has done enough already, and especially considering the fact that there aren't any jobs for her around town, she can bring Katniss home and take care of her there.

Katniss thinks that Peeta sounds almost sad, but that can't be the case, it just can't.


	9. Chapter Eight

It isn't hard to fall in a routine once her mother decides that she's sufficiently healed. She has to wear a uniform, too, and it's impossible for her not to feel uncomfortable wearing a stupid skirt to school today. Looking at her sister and Madge, it's clear that these were designed with Merchant girls in mind, not girls like her.

"What do you think of all of this?" she whispers to Madge at lunch on her first day back.

"What? The new lunch program?" Madge asks, looking down at her tray. "It isn't that bad."

"It's just… It's all so different."

"You were out for a while," her friend says simply. "Things had only started that day. You'll get used to it."

Katniss nods, but she doesn't want to.

* * *

She doesn't see Gale other than through the window when he's on his way home from the mines. His brothers and sister walk to school with them in the morning, and Vick always makes a point to bring him up, whether it's about his job or how _tired _he is or how late he was out the night before.  
She never knows what to say.

* * *

It's a month and a half that she goes without seeing Peeta. Her sister tries to insist over and over again that she go to his house, but Katniss refuses.

Eventually, he comes to hers.

"Hey, Katniss," he says when she opens the door, smiling.

"Hey," she says. "Prim! Grab that Morphling. I'm sorry, we replaced Madge's and then had a few whippings come in, so there's not a lot of it left."

"Oh, no, that's not why I'm here," he says. "I wanted you all to keep it, anyway. You have a lot more use for it than I do."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive," he answers. "I just wanted to come by and see if you wanted to come over tomorrow? I leave for the Tour next week, and I still haven't shown you where I keep my canvases."

"Okay," she says, earning herself one of those big grins from Peeta, like when she told him that he was doing a good job taking care of her, or when she said she enjoyed hanging out with him.

"Great. I was thinking maybe you could stay for dinner, if you wanted? We still haven't had the chance to hang out,"

"I know," she says. "Sorry."

"Don't be. Can you make it?"

She glances over at her sister, who raises her eyebrows, as if the answer is obvious.

"Sure. I can make it. I'll come over after school, just let me get changed."

"Great," he says, rocking back on his heels. "I'll see you then."

"See you then," she echoes.

* * *

He opens the door so quickly that she wonders if she's late, but he's happy enough to see her that she doesn't think she is.

"I brought cheese," she announces, pulling the little wrapped bundle her sister had insisted she bring out of her pocket and handing it to him.

"Thank you," he says, grinning as if the gift is something more valuable than cheese. She had told her sister that if he wanted cheese, he could buy all of the goat man's goats, but that didn't stop her from insisting. "I like your hair."

"Oh," she says, her hand going to the elaborate braid her sister had done.  
Katniss hates it, but she knows better than to complain. Whatever her mother will try to turn this dinner into will be bad, and she could use Prim as insurance, so she's more than willing to try to get on her sister's good side. She had drawn the line at wearing a dress, though. The skirts that they have to wear every day of the week is bad enough, and she's not planning on wearing anything like it for _fun _anytime soon, that's for sure.

"Thanks. Prim did it."

He motions for her to come inside and she does, only enough for him to shut the door behind him.

"I'm glad you could make it," he says, smiling.

"I hope I'm not too late."

"Oh, no, definitely not," he says. "Come on, I'll give you the tour,"

She nods, and he leads her through the kitchen and into a sitting room that she's never been in before. It's at least twice as big as the bedroom she shares with her mother and sister, maybe even more. The staircase that she heard them going up and down is off towards the side wall.  
There's a big dark brown couch in the middle of the room and a matching recliner beside it, both with pillows on the cushions. There's a big, light gray blanket only a shade or two darker than the walls draped over the back of the chair, and it looks soft. She wants to touch it, but she doesn't.

In front of the seats is a little table, and against the wall is a platform with a flat screened TV on it. She sees him out of the corner of her eye, watching her intently.

"It's nice," she says quietly, embarrassed at being caught staring.

There are five bedrooms that aren't being used, all of them huge and completely identical to each other. Each of them has a dresser and desk and closet doors, all of the walls light brown and all of the pillows and blankets on the huge bed bright white.  
The last of the bedrooms is even bigger than the other few. The walls are painted white and there are three doors. His bed seems to be much, much bigger than the other ones, and the bedding is a dark brown.

"This one is mine," he announces. "I had some paint sent in a while back, I'm going to finish up when I get home."

"I thought it looked pretty finished."

"I'm not keeping it white. It's going to be an orange color once I'm finished."

She nods, trying to imagine it, but she can't. _Orange? Really? _

"I do my painting over here," he says, stepping out into the hallway and leading her to the next door over, pushing it open. "So, I'll have all the canvases that need dusting out next week before I leave, and the stuff you'll need to do it."

She nods, taking the room in. None of the canvases are painted on, and she feels almost disappointed. She had sort of hoped to see what sort of things he paints.

"Sound good?" he asks.

"Sure," she says.

"Great. So, I'll send a key home with you tonight. Do you have any questions?"

"I think I'm good," she says. "I come over, I let myself in, I dust the canvases, and I lock the door behind me when I leave. Am I missing anything?"

He smiles. "No, you're not."

"Then I'm good," she says.

"I already informed all of the Peacekeepers," he says. "So nobody should try to bother you, but if they do, I have a signed letter on the counter that explains everything."

She nods, impressed that he thought about it at all but also concerned that maybe he's never going to stop worrying about her.

He made a stew for dinner, but before he dishes it out, he cuts the cheese that she brought over, thanking her again.

"It's just cheese," she reminds him. "My sister made it."

"I haven't had goat cheese in years," he says.

"Really?" she asks.

"We make – made – an apple tart with it at the bakery."

"Sounds expensive," she says before she can stop herself. Money has been on her mind a lot lately, and she regrets bringing it up.

"Too expensive for my family to eat unless it's gone very stale. Of course, pretty much everything we eat – ate – was stale."

"I… didn't know," she says, and he gives her the smallest of smiles before he crosses over to the table and pulls out a chair for her.

He actually pushes it in after she sits down. She thinks she remembers her father doing this for her mother and wonders where he would have picked it up, because it certainly wasn't from watching his father and the witch.

"Do you miss it?" she asks. "The bakery. Not the stale food."

He sort of chuckles, filling a bowl for her and setting it in front of her along with a roll and some cheese on a little plate.

"Sort of. I think I miss it more than school. It wouldn't be so bad, but they're very shorthanded without me there, and they don't miss any opportunities to tell me."

She's not sure what to say.

"Did you know that it's illegal for me to work there?" he asks, filling his own bowl.

She shakes her head.

"It is. There's no way around it, either. I had Effie, my escort, check half a dozen times, but it's illegal. I can't just do it without pay, I can't make it at my house and then bring it over, it's completely against the law now that I'm a victor."

"I didn't know," she says, not sure where he's going with this.

"It isn't me being lazy, or selfish or entitled or any of that, it's just that I _can't_, because the thing is that they won't punish me. Not really. Maybe they take some of my wages from the next few checks, but that would be about as far as they would go, but my family could lose the bakery. Or worse."

"I didn't think you were being… Peeta, who calls you selfish?" she asks, but he doesn't have to answer, because she knows. "_Oh_, Peeta, I'm so sorry."

"It isn't your fault," he says quietly. "I don't know. I feel bad about leaving them shorthanded like that, but I won't let them let lose the bakery."

She nods, surprised that he trusts her with all of this. Then again, who would she tell? "Wait a minute, you said you asked Effie? You still talk to her?"

He chuckles, sounding almost embarrassed. "Yes. I guess an escort's job isn't ever really finished. She got my phone number somehow and she calls me every week."

"What do you talk about?" she asks. She's sure that she's stepping over some sort of line by asking, but the thought of Peeta having anything to talk to Effie trinket about at all is almost funny.

"Anything that's on her mind, really," he admits. "Just this last week, she gave me advice on which brand of dye I should use in case I get a dog that needs coloring."

She almost chokes on her drink of water trying not to laugh.

"One of her friends tried to match it to her wig and, apparently, it was terrible. One of the worst things she's seen in her entire life."

He says it like it's the most normal thing in the world, and she wonders how until he lets out a laugh that he's obviously been holding back. "No, I think she's just glad to have someone listening."

She shakes her head at him. Of _course _he'd be the one willing to listen.

"What?" he asks.

"Nothing," she says. "You're just _nice_."

Now it's his turn to shake his head at her. "It's not like I'm not getting anything from it,"

"Oh?" she asks. "You like to talk about hair dye?"

"What? You don't think it would look good purple? I've been told it would work quite well with my skin tone."

She laughs embarrassingly loudly at this, and his smile is almost _proud_. Still, something about the comment demands an answer. "Keep it blonde."

"Okay," he says.

They eat in silence for a little while, but the question is still in the back of her mind. The meal is mostly finished when she can't handle it anymore.

"Seriously. What do you get from a conversation about hair dye?"

"It's… It's a big house. I mean, you saw. Eventually it gets to the point where silly, shallow conversations are better than none at all."

"I didn't realize things were so lonely around here," she says quietly. There's no way that her sister was right in hounding her to come over, and yet, here he is.

"I manage," he says. "I'm really glad you were able to make it, though. How's your back?"

"It's fine," she says. "Prim checks it every night and everything. How's your eye?"

"It's fine," he says.

"Really fine?" she asks. "Or fine the way it was when I was here?"

He smiles. "Really fine. It blackened a little bit, but it healed up pretty quickly."

"I'm sorry," she says, finishing the last bit of her stew.

"Don't be. Besides, it's not like it was my first black eye."

She can't help but to remember the one his mother gave him for giving her that bread. "Yeah," she says, tries to say, her voice is barely over a whisper. "I'm sorry about that, too."

"What?" Peeta asks.

She clears her throat, willing herself to get the words out. "I said I'm sorry about that, too."

His expression is guarded, careful. "About wrestling?"

"You didn't get black eyes from wrestling," she argues.

"Oh, please," he says, only sort of smiling. "It's hard to walk away from a match without a few bruises from the winner."

"You didn't lose."

He raises his eyebrows at her. "I wasn't _that _good, Katniss."

"I mean, you lost to your brother, during the championship, but… you didn't get black eyes from wrestling."

He shakes his head at her. She thinks that she's won, but of course, Peeta isn't letting her get off so easily.

"What are you talking about, then?" he asks slowly.

"You know what I'm talking about," she says, tearing her roll in half, more out of frustration than hunger. "It's been my fault twice, now."

"Are you talking about when we were kids?" he asks.

Her cheeks burn. "You had done me this huge kindness, and all you got from it was a black eye and I… I couldn't even say anything."

"You didn't have to," he reminds her quietly.

"Oh, come on," she says. "That wouldn't have happened if it wasn't for me,"

"You didn't do anything," he argues.

"But I-"

"It was my mother, and it was because of something _I _did. And then this time, it was Thread, and it was because of something _I _did. So please, _please_ don't blame yourself."

"You're impossible," she tells him, stacking her plate and her bowl and heading for the sink. He's beside her almost instantly.

"I'm right," he argues, and she turns to look at him, completely exasperated.

"You just don't get it," she assures him, using the little silver sprayer to rinse her bowl out. "Can't you just let me finally apologize and get it over with?"

He groans, obviously frustrated. "Fine, Katniss. Apologize, if you want."

"Well, I don't see why you're being so weird about it,"

"Because it's like… It's like…" he struggles to find the right words. "It's like when my brother came to see me on the day of… when… and he said _sorry_, and it was pointless."

Peeta hasn't ever brought up the games before. She doesn't even know what to say, so she just sets the wet bowl down, staring at him. He grabs it, getting to work on drying it with a little towel.

"It wasn't his fault," Peeta says. "It's the same thing."

She doesn't even know how to respond.

"I'm sorry," Peeta says, and she can't help the bitter chuckle that comes out. "What?"

"Now _you're _sorry? It hardly seems fair."

He sort of smiles at this, taking the plate from her hand and rinsing it. "You've got me there."

"It's just… I still don't get it," she says, knowing that she should just give up. "I could get you in trouble over and over again you wouldn't even mind."

He reaches out, brushing a piece of the hair that fell out of her braid behind her ear. A shiver runs through her, and she's confused, because she certainly didn't have this reaction when he touched her hair before. His hand runs down the length of her braid, but he doesn't say anything.

"Why is that?" she asks, ready for some sort of an answer. "Maybe you're just crazy."

"Maybe you're worth it," he counters, a bit of a smile playing on his lips.

"I'm really not," she says.

"You're the impossible one," he murmurs. His hand is still on her braid, just touching it, playing with it. She's not even entirely sure what she's doing when she takes a step closer to him.

His head tilts down towards hers, their foreheads resting together, and she has no idea what it is inside of her screaming for her to kiss him, but she does it.

He doesn't mind. In fact, he wraps his arms around her, pulling her in more tightly. Her arms wind around his neck, holding him in place, but she doesn't think that he would move.

"Katniss," he whispers when they pull away for air, still holding onto her.

She steps away. This can't happen. Peeta can't just _kiss _her. Not when his girl, whoever she is, is waiting. Not when she's a rebound at best. No, this can't happen.

"I… I'm…" Peeta stammers, looking at her, and she opens and closes her mouth a few times, trying to think of something.

"I should go."

"No!" he says, obviously having found his words.

"I have to. I'll… I'll still dust your canvases."

"Katniss, don't go," he begs.

"I have to. Your girl…" she trails off, sprinting for the door.

"Kat-" the door slams between them, and she runs until her lungs ache. He doesn't follow her. It isn't until she's at home, hands rested on her knees as she gasps for air, that she realizes that she just had her first kiss. With _Peeta Mellark._

* * *

**Author's note:**  
Please don't kill me. Also, as an important note, there will be an update next Friday, and then I'll be taking a month off from this fic to participate in National Novel Writing Month.


	10. Chapter Nine

He catches her on the way home from school that day, and she's relieved that not only Prim, but all of Gale's siblings are with her. Surely he won't bring anything up, not too obviously, at least. 

"Hey, Katniss," he says, his voice quiet as he digs into his pocket. "I brought you that key, like we talked about."

"Oh," she says. "Okay."

She holds her hand out and he drops it into her palm, and she waits for him to leave, but he doesn't. Instead, he walks beside her.

"I think we should talk."

"I don't think there's anything to talk about."

"We didn't exactly finish things last night."

"There's nothing to finish," she says. "Look, it was a mistake. I get it. Don't worry about it."

"A mistake?" he asks.

She can't help but to look over at him at this. "I'm fine with things just being the way they were."

"If that's what you want," he says quietly.

"It's best that way."

It's quiet for a while. She wonders if he's going to walk with them all the way to the Seam.

"Will you be at the Harvest Festival?" he asks.

She fights the urge to roll her eyes. Everyone will be at the festival. Even if attendance wasn't required as a part of the Tour, the Capitol is funding the event, and there's nobody in the District that would turn down the chance to fill their stomach.

"Yes," she says. "We'll be there."

"Well, maybe I'll see you there?"

She nods. "Good luck on your tour."

"Thank you," he says.

"Wasn't that your turn?" she asks, glancing over her shoulder at the Village, and his face reddens.

His mouth opens like he wants to say something but he settles for a sigh, running his hand through his hair. "Yeah. I'll see you later, Katniss. Bye, Prim."

"Bye," they both echo.

Her sister begs for an explanation, but Katniss doesn't have one for her.

* * *

They have a half day in school that day, specifically so that they can watch him leave. She goes home and watches on the TV.

It's impossible not to think about the kiss when she's in his kitchen. He must have realized that, too, because on the counter, beside the promised letter explaining things, is a little envelope with her name on it in careful cursive. She hates that she feels nervous as she opens it.

* * *

_Katniss,_  
_First, I want to apologize. If I had thought things through for more than a few seconds, I would have realized that kissing you was a terrible idea._  
_I can see now that it made you uncomfortable, and I want to apologize for that. I made bread last night, and I want you to have it. I doubt that it will make things any better, but you seemed to like the white bread when you were here._  
_I also want to thank you for still being willing to do this. I know that there aren't very many people that would, not after all of this. It really means a lot to me._

_My original intent with this letter was to explain myself, but the more I think about it, the worse of an idea it sounds. I'm sensing a pattern here._  
_As much as I want you to understand, I want you to have the chance to ask as many questions as you would like. So please, please come see me when I get home and hear me out. I can't tell you how much it would mean to me._  
_Thank you, again._  
_Peeta Mellark._

* * *

She tries not to think too much about the letter as she heads upstairs, tries not to read too much into it, but it's the only thing she can think of. Kissing her was a _terrible idea? _He hadn't kissed her! _She_ kissed _him_! She agrees that it was a mistake, but terrible seems like a strong word, but she doesn't have much to compare it to. Had she really been that bad at it? She had thought it was fine. Maybe even a little bit more than fine.

She reminds herself that she can't think like this as she pulls the door to the spare room open. Peeta is spoken for, and certainly not by her. She's here to clean, that's all.

The canvases that are out are all at varying levels of completion. Some on easels and tables and some propped up against the wall. Most of them are unfinished, but they're all striking, and each and every one of them depicts something from his arena. She's sure that they'd be absolutely lovely if the thought of the stream that he had stayed near when they thought he was dying wasn't so tainted with worry in her mind.

Her favorites are of the trees. They're beautiful and realistic, and they make her crave the woods badly.

She thinks of him while she dusts, realizing that she's not going to be able to push the thoughts of him or of the letter from her mind. He's safe and sound and on a Victory Tour to prove it, so why should these paintings make her so uncomfortable? None of them are gruesome or disturbing. She wonders why he paints them and if they make him uncomfortable the way that she is. Surely not, considering how many he's done.

* * *

The showcase of his paintings is that night. These ones are much more obvious: the fabric of the jackets, a silver parachute, the cornucopia, the bush of the berries that the girl from District Five ate. She's almost glad that he brought those with him, but it begs the question of whether or not he made this job up. No, he couldn't have. There's no way that he pities her that much.

"Is that white bread?" her mother asks from the kitchen.

"It's part of my payment from Peeta," Katniss says, only sort of lying.

"Very generous of him."

"He remembered I liked it," she adds, regretting it instantly.

"Hmmm," is all her mother has to say to that.

* * *

Prim snuggles up beside her during District Eleven, and they watch as Peeta delivers the Capitol-written speech. He didn't have any allies or kills from there, but his speech is appropriately emotional. He's presented with a huge plaque that she just knows he won't display in his house.

In the shots they get from the banquet that night, couples dance around, and Peeta sits and watches until he notices the camera. He actually smiles, lifting his hand and waving.

"Who do you think he's waving to?" Katniss asks, and her sister groans in irritation.

"What?" Katniss asks. "It's an honest question."

"Nothing," her sister says. "I didn't say anything."

* * *

Districts Ten through Six are all pretty much the same thing. He makes a speech, accepts a plaque, and is shown chatting at a party. Normally, watching it would irritate her, but she doesn't mind it as much this year. She can't help but to wonder why he can make something that she normally finds so boring interesting.

Her job is tedious, but she's not about to complain about it. He's paid her more than enough to make it exciting to wipe the nonexistent dust off of his canvases every day.

* * *

District Five is terrible. The girl that Katniss had nicknamed Foxface was Peeta's first kill, and it was entirely by accident, and she can tell just looking at him how guilty he feels over her eating those stupid berries.

At the end of his speech, which was much quieter than the rest of them have been, he adds, very simply that he's _sorry_.

She doesn't think anyone has ever _apologized _to the district of one of their _kills_ before. Certainly not on any Tour she's been old enough to remember.

He doesn't seem much in the mood for a party that night.

* * *

His mood is perfectly fine in Districts Four and Three. He smiles during the party that night, engrossed in a conversation with, of all people, _Effie Trinket_. Katniss sort of smiles, remembering their conversation, until she remembers that she really shouldn't.

She knows that Districts Two and One will be awful for him, but he manages slightly better than he did during District Five. His voice is still apologetic, but all of the shots of the party show him talking and even sometimes laughing.

* * *

Madge Undersee invites her to watch Peeta's Capitol interview in the Square, and she agrees, because it really couldn't be all that bad, and, as Madge had reminded her, they are _friends_. Her sister comes with her, and the three of them sit on the grass, watching the screen.

"Peeta, tell me," Caesar says as Peeta takes his seat on the stage. "You've been back in District Twelve for, what? Six months, now? How are you settling back in?"

"Very well," Peeta says. "You know, there's a shower in there. I think I'm finally getting the hang of it."

Caesar laughs.

"It is very nice to be at home, though. As great as everything is here, there's really nothing like District Twelve,"

"Is it the people?" Caesar asks, raising his eyebrows, and Katniss knows that it's a trap, but Peeta walks right into it.

"Mostly," he admits. "Though, Haymitch _is _my only neighbor,"

The audience loves this sort of thing, people having fun at Haymitch's expense. Even the crowd in the Square is laughing at the thought of it.

"Now, did your family move with you or is it only you?"

The question surprises him. Katniss can tell, because his face locks into place the way that it did when she apologized about his eye the first time.

"It's just me," Peeta says. "They have the bakery to run, you know."

"Your girl didn't move with you, then?" Caesar asks.

Peeta chuckles. "No. She didn't move with me."

"I have to ask. How are things going with the two of you? How did you tell her?"

"I didn't. Not yet."

From her spot in front of Katniss, Delly Cartwright actually _groans_. Katniss remembers Peeta's last interview after the Games, and how convinced Caesar was after seeing the interviews that Delly was the girl Peeta had been talking about. It took a story about them telling people that they were brother and sister to make him let go of that idea.

"Why not?" Caesar asks.

"I don't know how," Peeta admits. "She scares easily when it comes to this sort of thing. I learned that pretty recently, actually."

"Recently? So the two of you have spent time together, then?"

"Yes, we have," Peeta says.

"Is she what you thought she would be?"

"So much more, Caesar. She's so much more than I thought she would be."

Katniss isn't sure why, exactly, but the feeling rising up inside of her feels an awful lot like jealousy. She reminds herself to stop being ridiculous. She has absolutely no claim on this boy. She should be happy that he's happy.

"Do you think you'll tell her soon?" Caesar asks.

"I'll tell her when the time is right. I'd rather take things slow than put her on the spot."

"I understand where you're coming from, Peeta, but believe me when I say that your girl, whoever she is, is the most envied girl in the country. She would be thrilled to have you put her on the spot."

Peeta chuckles. "I'll keep it in mind."

The interview shifts back to his new life as a victor; but somehow, his girl is always brought up.

"I don't think I'm alone in saying that we had hoped for some sort of a portrait during your showcase," Caesar says when they talk about his art.

"Oh, no. I'm not any good at those yet."

"So all that cooking… Is it for someone in specific."

"I'm just trying to figure out what's good."

Katniss wonders if he's getting sick of talking about someone else during his interview. She thinks that she would be.

There's no footage of the party, since cameras aren't allowed at the president's mansion. 

That night, when she can't sleep, she pulls the blanket up to her chin and wonders if she should even be allowed to miss him. 

* * *

**Author's Note: **  
**Extra chapter, what?! So the story hit 100 followers here on FFN, and 50 reviews, and since the chapter was finished, I figured I could post it. This is mostly Everlark/Peeta angst and miscommunication, and I'm terribly sorry, but things will be continuing in this pattern for a little while. Thank you all again for the reviews. They make my day!**


	11. Chapter Ten

The Harvest Festival has more food than Katniss has ever seen in her life. It's all laid out on tables in the middle of the square. Silent workers sent in from the Capitol fill trays when they begin to empty. By the time Katniss has finished filling her plate, she doesn't even seem to have made a dent in any of the platters.

She remembers the day that their first parcel came, filled with oils and grains and peanut butter, and how her sister wept at the sight of so much food that didn't involve Katniss being put into danger, and she thinks, not for the first time, that maybe not everything that came from Peeta winning the games is bad.

After all, even with all of the charity she managed to accept from him since his homecoming, if he had tried to give her a box like that, she wouldn't have taken it. She would have hated herself for it later, but she wouldn't have – couldn't have – taken it. Not from him. Which is stupid, because even though the boxes come from the Capitol every month, they wouldn't if it wasn't for him.

She swears that she'll never stop owing this boy. Maybe she should just stop trying.

"I know I already said this to Caesar," Peeta says at the beginning of his speech, and Katniss is grateful that her seat faces the stage. "It's even truer, though, now that I'm home. There is no place in Panem like District Twelve."

The hoots and hollers he gets for this statement make his smile seem almost proud.

"I've missed it, and all of you, terribly. Some things in the Capitol and on the train reminded me a lot of home. You'd be amazed at all of the uses they've found for our coal over the years."

She laughs at this, but nobody else seems to. Surely he didn't make the joke for her, but she can't help but to wonder.

The rest of his speech is sweet. He thanks everyone for supporting him and for getting him home. The Mayor asks everyone to give him a hand when he's finished, and the applause is almost deafening.

"He was born for this sort of thing," her mother comments quietly.

Katniss tries not to glare. Peeta Mellark wasn't born to be a Victor, no matter how good he is at it.

He's busy during the rest of the festival, but more often than not, she catches his eyes on her while Effie talks to him. She feels bold, almost, and lifts her hand, giving him a small wave.

He grins at her, waving back. Effie notices this, and her eyes follow his over to her. She looks past her, though. Katniss knows that it's what she would have done, too, if she were Effie, but that doesn't stop it from stinging.

Peeta's key feels heavy in her pocket. She knows that he probably doesn't want to hang out, especially not so soon after getting home, but she goes to his house she's brought Prim home from school anyway, ready to get rid of it.

It takes him a moment to get to the door, but it doesn't look like she interrupted him in the middle of anything crucial.

"Hey, Katniss!" he says, giving her that same smile from the day before. "What brings you here?"

"I have your key," she says, digging it from her pocket and holding it out.

"Thank you," Peeta tells her. "We should go ahead and settle up while you're here."

"I didn't ruin the canvases then?" she asks. The job had seemed too simple to be as important as Peeta claimed it was, and, especially since he's been home, Katniss hasn't been able to shake the fear of messing them up.

"No, of course not. You did it perfectly. Do you still have that bag?"

She nods, pulling it out and opening it. He reaches into his pocket, pulling all of the coins from it.

"I had hoped you would come by," he explains, nodding towards the mass of coins in his hand. "I figured it was better to be ready."

"All of that?" she asks when he moves to pour it into the bag. She doesn't want his charity, but with the electricity in the fence on, she has to find some way to feed her sister. "Are you sure?"

He doesn't speak until the coins are in the little bag. "Of course I'm sure. Thank you for doing that, by the way. It really means a lot to me."

She thinks of the letter and nods. "Thank you."

"I take it there's no chance you'll come on full time, then?"

She almost laughs. "No. There isn't."

"It was worth a shot," Peeta smiles.

"How was your tour?" she asks, trying to be polite.

His smile falters, but only for a moment.

She thinks of how quiet he was in District Five and wonders just how strict the schedule could be. "I'm sorry," she announces, not sure what else to say.

"Oh, no. Don't be sorry," he sort of chuckles. "I know it's not an opportunity a lot of people get. I appreciated it. It's just… Got kind of lonely."

"So, what are you going to do with all of those plaques?"

"They're in a closet upstairs. Other than that, to be honest, probably nothing."

"What do they say?"

He scrunches his face for a moment, deep in thought. "They're all the same, other than the name of the district. Basically, they say that they're _proud to celebrate Peeta Mellark as Victor of the seventy fourth annual hunger games, and to present him this plaque in commendation for the skill displayed therein, including combat, camouflage, survival, and charisma._"

She raises her eyebrows, sort of surprised that he memorized it, and he gives her a sheepish smile.

"There were twelve of them," he says, as if she didn't already know. "There wasn't much else to read on the train. Plus, I think the whole _charisma _thing is sort of funny."

"Why?" she asks, but the answer isn't hard to figure out. "You know they meant it, right?"

He chuckles dryly. "Thanks, Katniss."

She stares at the ground. "You should try to give yourself more credit. I mean… They all really like you over there and…" she glances up at him for the first time now, shocked by how easy it is to lose her nerve with him just _looking _at her. "I doubt Haymitch's said anything about charisma."

It isn't until after she's said it that she realizes what a terrible idea it must be, joking around about Haymitch to Peeta, of all people, after he's just spent weeks with him on the train.

Peeta laughs, though. It's a real laugh, too, not forced, like before. "Yeah," he says. "Maybe you're right about that one."

Katniss wants to say that she is definitely right, but she decides not to push things.

"Do you want something to eat?" he asks.

"Oh, no. I should get back to the house," she says. "They're waiting for me for dinner."

"I'll walk with you," Peeta offers, maybe a little bit _too _quickly. "If you want."

"All the way to the Seam?" she asks.

"Yeah. If you don't mind."

"No," she says. "I guess not."

Their walk is quiet, uneventful. Other than his loud footsteps, it makes her think of walking with Gale after a hunt. She hasn't walked – or hunted – with Gale in months, now. Having a friend, or whatever Peeta is, is nice.

When the back of his hand brushes against hers, she tells herself it was an accident.

"I liked your speech," she announces.

"Thank you."

This is it, then. This is how she'll find out about that joke. "I'm pretty sure I'm the only one who understood your History class joke."

He chuckles. "I was glad you were there."

It's quiet for a moment. Katniss has absolutely no clue how she's supposed to respond.

"Bet you're glad to be back and done with all of those speeches," she says.

"Oh, yes," Peeta agrees. "Definitely. I missed you."

"What?" she asks, sure she didn't hear him right and sort of wanting to hear him say it again if she did, just to be sure.

"I said I am glad to be back," he says slowly, carefully, like he's gauging her reaction, trying to decide whether or not he should repeat that last part. "Because I missed you."

"Oh," Katniss says, and the corners of her lips turn up in the smallest smile. She realizes that her answer wasn't right, and backpedals. "I… I mean… I missed you, too."

His hand brushes against the back of hers again.

"I hope it warms up soon," she announces partway into their walk, not sure what the silence will lead to.

"Not fond of the snow, then?"

"Not really. I've always liked the spring. New beginnings and dandelions and…" she trails off, embarrassed. He's looking at her strangely, and she can't imagine why he should know what he has to do with dandelions.

**Author's Note:**

So, as I noted before, there won't be regular updates through the month of November due to National Novel Writing Month. Sorry! 


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